Game of Thrones: The Bastard King
by The Essence Of Randomness
Summary: Robert Baratheon is dying from a wound sustained while hunting. Tensions run high as the players move their pieces, each aiming to checkmate the others. In a world where none can be trusted, where does the last honourable man turn to fulfill his best friend's dying wish?


**Game of Thrones: The Bastard King**

Robert Baratheon, The First Of His Name, King of the Andals and the First Men, Protector of the Realm, was dying. Ned Stark watched his old friend lay abed, coughing and spluttering. "Ned..." Robert said. His voice was weak, a shadow of its former brash, bawdy self. The life was ebbing from him slowly, but Robert had always been a fighter, and that hadn't changed. "Your Grace? Robert?" Eddard Stark said from beside the bed, answering his friend's call. "When...when I'm gone, Ned, I want you to..." The dying King coughed again, splattering his silken sheets with blood. "...take over Ned. Rule in my stead until my son Gendry is old enough to...to take my throne." Ned knew of Gendry of course, Robert's bastard who was an apprentice armourer, and he also knew that Joffrey, Tommen and Myrcella were not his children at all, but the offspring of Jaime Lannister and his sister, Queen Cersei. But the realm didn't know that. "Y-your Grace? You mean Joffrey?" Ned asked. Robert shook his head slightly. "No. I...write this down!" He commanded, waving his hand weakly. Ned quickly grabbed some parchment. "I, Robert Baratheon, blah blah add all the...titles...hereby...hereby denounce Joffrey, Tommen and Myrcella as my heirs, you know why Ned, add it in...and instead legitimise my natural son Gendry. And all the other bastards, better put them...in too." Robert lapsed into a fit of coughing, and waved his hand again. "Leave me Ned." And that was the last time Ned saw Robert alive.

When Robert died, the bells rang nonstop for seven days. During that time it seemed as though no one at court took a break either. Ned saw Cersei Lannister several times, and the Queen always seemed to be fussing over one of her children, usually Joffrey. She still believed he would be King. Meanwhile, Ned had spoken to Gendry. The boy had been shocked, but more at his legitimisation than at his true parentage. "I never knew my father, don't see why it shouldn't be him." He had said. Ned had not yet revealed Gendry or Robert's will to anyone except the future king, but he had sent letters to Dragonstone, beseeching Robert's brother Stannis come to King's Landing at once with a force behind him, and Robert's youngest brother Renly had offered Ned a hundred swords, should he need them. He feared that he would. As he sat in his chambers, contemplating what he would have to do to secure Gendry's throne and his own regency, he heard a sharp knocking. The door opened and Petyr Baelish strode inside, one hand stroking his goatee absent-mindedly. "Lord Baelish," Ned said, rising awkwardly on one leg. "My Lord Hand," Littlefinger bowed low. Ned sat back down. "What can I do for you?" He asked. Baelish smiled thinly. "There are...whisperings around court, Lord Stark. Whisperings that our dearly departed Robert may have left some unexpected requests in last will and testament." Ned gave a short laugh. "I am not going to discuss what may or may not be in Robert's will with you, Lord Baelish. You will find out on the morrow, as will the rest of the realm."

Littlefinger looked hurt. "My Lord, you mistake me...should Robert's last declarations prove to be not to the liking of the rest of the court, you will need swords. Your household guard is...not in its best shape, and the Queen has over a dozen knights and a hundred men at arms. The Gold Cloaks are two thousand strong." Littlefinger let the implication hang in the air. "You mean to say that the city watch are no better than common sellswords?" Ned demanded. "Not at all, not at all," Baelish said, waving his hand slightly, "I only mean that, when there are two sides, both worthy of their blades, they may need a little extra weight to push the scales one way...or the other."

Outside the small council hall, Ned and Gendry were greeted by Renly, Littlefinger and Varys. Ser Loras Tyrell stood at Renly's side. Gendry was dressed in dark black mail, with a gold and black Baratheon cloak and the Baratheon stag on his doublet. The three men bowed slightly. "My Lord, the Gold Cloaks are yours." Littlefinger muttered. Renly embraced Ned. "You have your swords." He said. Ned looked to Varys, and the eunuch gave a small smile. "There has been word that Lord Stannis is...on his way for his nephew's coronation." With Varys, Renly, Baelish, Ser Loras and Gendry beside him and the remnants of his household guard behind him, Ned Stark strode into the hall.

Joffrey sat on the Iron Throne, his mother Cersei seated to his right, The Hound Sandor Clegane on his left. At the foot of the throne stood the Kingsguard, with Ser Baristan Selmy in the centre. Behind Joffrey was a rank of Lannister guardsmen, and all along the sides of the hall stood the Gold Cloaks, spears raised, unmoving. Up in the audience galleries, hundreds had gathered to watch events unfold. Ned gulped. The Gold Cloaks were his, he knew, and scattered amongst the spectators stood Renly's disguised men, armed with crossbows, ready to spring to his aid. Joffrey rose from the throne. "Honourable members of the Small Council," He began. Ned took a step forward and produced Robert's will. "This is the last will and testament of Robert Baratheon, King of the Andals and the First Men, Defender of the Faith and Protector of the Realm." He declared. "None in this room can denounce the honour of Ser Baristan?" He asked, handing the letter to the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. Baristan looked at it, turned it over, and inspected the seal. "This is Robert's seal, unbroken." He said. Joffrey looked uneasy, but Cersei still had a smug grin on her face. Ser Baristan broke the seal and began to read. "I, Robert Baratheon, First of My Name, King of the Andals and The First Men, Defender of the Faith and Protector of the Realm, hereby name my Hand, Lord Eddard Stark of Wintefell, Regent and Protector of the Realm until my...until my son, Gendry, comes of age." A murmur went through the hall, and Joffrey's face was a contorted mask of confusion and rage.

But Robert's last words were not done. "In the light of my recently gained knowledge that Joffrey, Tommen and Myrcella, whom I had believed to be mine own children, are in fact the bastards of Ser Jaime Lannister, I have ordered Lord Eddard find the eldest of my bastards, a boy named Gendry, and raise him to the throne when he comes of age. My final declaration be that the Lannister family be wiped from history, for this treachery they have done both me, and the realm." Beside Ned, Gendry tensed. Ser Baristan lowered the letter. Cersei stood and held out her hand for the paper. Reluctantly, Baristan gave it to her. "This?" Cersei said. "This is your shield, Lord Stark?" And she tore the letter in two, and then again, and scattered it. Baristan was stunned. "Those were the King's words, Your Grace." He said. "We have a new King." She looked to Joffrey, who sprang to his feet and shouted so loudly he was almost spitting. "Kill them! Kill these traitors!" Swords were drawn all around the hall; Ned's men, the Lannister's, The Hound's, The Kingsguards's. The Goldcloaks readied their spears. "Ser Baristan," Joffrey began, "Hound. Kill Lord Stark and this blacksmith's boy." The Hound started forwards, but Ser Baristan turned and blocked his path. "That blacksmith's boy is the King. You will not harm him." The Hound grinned widely, pushing his grotesquely burned face up at the corners, and then sprang forwards.

Ser Baristan brought his sword up almost instantly, but the Hound was bigger, stronger, and had the higher ground. Their blades clashed together once, twice, and on the Hound's third blow, Baristan was forced down to his knees. Clegane rained down blows on the Knight, but Baristan took each and eventually turned the strikes back, hacking and jabbing upwards with such speed that the Hound had to retreat. Both men stood, staring at each other, and then came together again, steel kissing on steel. They danced across the hall, neither able to best the other; The Hound was far stronger, but he wasn't as skilled, nor as fast as the ageing Kingsguard. Their duel took them near a thick stone pillar, and the Hound swung his sword sideways, aiming for Selmy's neck, but Baristan jumped back, caught the Hound's blade with his own, and smashed the two against the pillar. Clegane's sword buried itself deep in the stone, but Selmy's shattered, leaving him holding a sword the length of his forearm with a broken tip.

Barsitan threw his broken blade aside, and the two faced each other again, both unarmed, neither wanting to make a move for another weapon. The hall was silent as everyone intently watched, breath baited. Joffrey was gawping like a hungry dog, Cersei seemed only bemused. And then The Hound turned, relieved a Goldcloak of his sword, and turned back around to find Selmy's dagger buried in his chest. The short blade had penetrated his mail and undershirt, and blood was already spreading from the wound. Roaring, the Hound charged, swinging his replacement sword wildly, but by that point the entire court had erupted into chaos.

Ned looked around him for his allies, but found only the Goldcloaks, spears lowered, advancing on his own men. "Baelish!" He bellowed, whirling around, looking for the Master of Coin. He found him fleeing up to the throne, and bending his knee to Joffrey. Varys had disappeared. The Goldcloaks and the Lannister guardsmen took Ned's household guards on all sides, but for each Northman that fell, two of their foes went with him. Behind him, Loras Tyrell was slashing about on all sides, protecting Renly from the oncoming Goldcloaks. He sliced the tip off of one spear, before taking off the head of its owner, then turned to his side and plunged his blade into the chest of another. Janos Slynt, The Lord Command of the City Watch, drew his sword and charged the Knight of Flowers. Loras blocked the first blow with his longsword and delivered a lightning-fast parry, followed by a swipe to the leg and then one to the shoulder. Slynt backed off, bleeding from multiple wounds, barking at his Goldcloaks to finish the traitors. Ned grabbed Renly. "NOW!" He shouted. Renly heard him over the din of the battle and raised one hand. Up in the viewing gallery, cloaks were being thrown aside and armed men were pushing themselves to the front.

Renly lowered his hand, and the first volley of bolts flew down into the crowd below. Goldcloaks and Lannisters were shot down, and Cersei threw her arms around Joffrey in a desperate effort to protect him. The doors burst open, and Stannis Baratheon stormed in, backed by a hundred Baratheon men. The remaining Lannister guards were cut down easily, and the Goldcloaks surrounded. "Surrender, or die." Stannis said, his voice cold and harsh. Spears clattered to the ground and hands were hurriedly raised. Ned started towards The Iron Throne, backed by Renly, Gendry, Loras and Stannis. "Ser Loras, Ser Baristan, take what men you need and see that Joffrey and the other Lannister children are found comfortable, but secure chambers. Take the Queen and Lord Baelish to the Black Cells." Littlefinger's trademark smirk was gone, and he was fighting for words, but his wit had failed him. Cersei's voice, however, was still in working order. "You'll hang for this Stark!" She screamed as she was dragged from the hall. "My brother will kill you! My father will take this city back and have your head off!" With her gone, Ned turned to Stannis. "Lord Stannis, I thank you for your timely rescue." He said, bowing his head slightly. "It was my duty Lord Stark, to both my brother, and the realm." Stannis replied. Even when speaking to a friend, his voice was still thin and sharp. "I would have your men take the gates to the city, let none in or out. Should any Lannister attempt to escape, kill them." Ned said. Stannis turned a man by his side, wearing worn old brown and grey robes, balding grey hair still trying to cover his head. "Ser Davos, see that it's done."

It was then that Varys reappeared, wringing his hands and looking in dismay at the corpses strewn across the floor. "A terrible business, really..." The eunuch said. Ned glared at him. "Who do you serve, Varys?" He asked. Varys tittered. "Why, the realm, Lord Stark." Ned knew he'd get a cryptic answer, but he had to ask.  
"Serve your King, Varys. Or I'll have your head."  
"Why, My Lord, I am not Petyr Baelish, you can be sure of that."  
"That's what I was afraid of. He was predictable."  
Varys tittered again. "Is there something I can do for you, Lord Stark?" He asked. Ned thought for a moment. "Keep listening, Varys. I need to hear the whispers."

Ser Davos Seaworth stepped over the corpse of a dead Lannister guard. "The Gate of the Gods is ours, ser." Said one of his men, cleaning his blade on his cloak. "Good." Said Davos, "that was the last one." They had faced stiff resistance at only two gates; The Mud Gate, and the Gate of the Gods, but they'd been able to capture them eventually. In one afternoon Ned Stark had successfully taken the entire city, Davos had to admire him for that. He entered the small council chambers last, the others had already taken positions around the table; the boy Gendry at the head, Eddard on his right, Renly on his left. To the left of Renly sat Loras Tyrell, and across from him was Stannis. "But you can't seriously mean to do it!" Renly was saying as Davos sat down beside Stannis. "It was Robert's last order. It must be carried out." The Lord of Dragonstone said. Renly look to Ned for support. "Ned, they're children!" Lord Eddard looked down. "It was Robert's will. We have to carry it out." He said. "No." Gendry said. The bastard looked truly regal at the head of the table, Robert's crown sitting on his head, back straight. All eyes turned to him.

"We are not killing children." Gendry was fifteen, one year off manhood, not much older than Joffrey, but he looked more royal than the Lannister bastard ever had. "Your Grace, that was your father's last command." Ned said. Gendry nodded. "Aye, and this is my first." He said. "I suppose, with their mother and father dead, we could find them suitable families to take them as wards..." Renly said. "There remains the issue of the remaining Lannisters. Lord Tywin has called his banners. All the west has risen up behind him." Said Stannis. "He must mean to march on King's Landing." Gendry said.  
"To reach the capital he'd have to go through The Reach or The Riverlands. The Tully's and the Tyrell's are sworn to the Iron Throne."  
"Whatever he does, it will mean war." Ned said.  
"Not necessarily, My Lord. If we give Lord Tywin back his daughter, he may be satisfied."  
Ned shook his head sadly. "No. It's too late for that. Robert's orders must be followed."

The next day, as the sun found its peak in the sky, Cersei Lannister, her cousin Lancel, and several of their kin who had remained in the city were presented on the steps of the Great Sept of Baelor. Ned Stark stood holding his Valyrian steel greatsword, Ice. "By the orders of Robert Baratheon and his son, King Gendry Baratheon, First of His Name, King of the Andals, The Rhoynar, and The First Men, Protector of the Realm and Defender of the Faith, Cersei Lannister and her family are sentenced to death for betraying the king, and committing incestuous adultery with her brother Ser Jaime. Petyr Baelish, former Master of Coin, and Janos Slynt, former Lord Commander of the City Watch, you are sentenced to death for aiding the Lannisters in their treasons." Ned moved down the line, slicing each head from its shoulders. He reach Cersei last. The Queen was still in the dress she'd been wearing when she was arrested, but it was covered in dirt and urine. Her hair was matter and dirty, but she had refused Ned's offer of a wash. Ned raised Ice high above his head. If he lowered it, it would mean war. Ned swung. Cersei's head rolled.


End file.
